


Dreamnoblade/Technodream Oneshots

by ModeratelyAnxiousGay



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Character Deaths, Clay | Dream/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF) - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, au's, i dont know what tags to add here, oh boy, sad endings sometimes, why is there no dreamnoblade tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModeratelyAnxiousGay/pseuds/ModeratelyAnxiousGay
Summary: These are decently self indulgent things-along with requests-I've written when I can't find anything to read. There's not much to read under the Dreamnoblade tag. Sad.Request are open?? I'll feel more obligated to write if I know someone is waiting for it i guess-I am shipping online personas. Not real people. I may do real world AUs at some point, this in no way means I ship the real people. If the CCs voice their discomfort with online personification shipping as well, this will be taken down. Which means if one of you sees something where a CC is like "ha,, please s t o p" please tell me so I can take this down. :)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	1. 01

**Author's Note:**

> First page is just my rules/disclaimer.request page so feel free to skip it if you're feeling bold.

Hey gang! 

Straight to the point I'm gonna preface by saying I doubt this will be updating regularly. I love to write but unless something really inspires me I don't write consistently. This also means if I'm really inspired you run the rick of getting like two or thee posts in an hour. So. Yeah. _Also_ it is important to note that I am shipping online characters. Not real people. I may do real world AUs at some point, this in no way means I ship the real people. 

As for my rules:

  1. I will not write "smut". To those of you who do write it, mad respect that takes commitment and maturity my asexual ass does not have.
  2. Please do not let this end up finding its way to CCs or like being reposted. I appreciate that you may enjoy my work, but if I want to post it elsewhere I will.
  3. I will absolutely take requests. People usually have pretty rad ideas, and I like when I don't have to make an outline for these little shorts.
  4. I dunno, have a good day I guess. Hydreate yourselves???
  5. Please don't come at me for my shit writing. I would _adore_ feedback but make sure it's constructive and not hateful, please.
  6. Not a rule but CW and TW will be put in the notes at the beginning of every chapter, so if you ever think I miss something when reading let me know :)




	2. 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW: Descriptions/mentions of blood, character death, mentions of death and 'war', my shitty writing.
> 
> After drifting apart from a childhood full of friendship, Dream and Technoblade reunite on opposite sides of battle. Neither is willing to give up on their cause.
> 
> Please forgive me for any typos, I am too tired to look this over. I will return to fix them at some point.

Technoblade had never anticipated seeing Dream again. He had accepted for years that the unnoticed ending to their time together had been how it was supposed to go. It had been a gift from whatever higher power watched over them growing up, that they were able to bask in simplicity and enjoy their final moments together without realizing that the end was nearing. 

Bodies lay scattered about the battlefield in more frequent groups than the wildflowers that usually plagued the large expanse of land. Some faces Technoblade recognized, and added to the lengthy list of people in his head he would have to announce dead later on. Others were the bloodied expressions of strangers the pinkette did not have the sympathy to respect. Those who fought beneath the king were ignorant of the world and destruction they inflicted upon it by existing. 

Metal crashed ceaselessly against metal and as Technoblade strained for air, gasped desperately for the oxygen that had abandoned him with overexertion, he told himself that _this_ is what war sounded like. War sounded of the wounded cries of colleagues, of weapons clattering together with quick haste and violent intentions, of friendships being torn apart by power. 

As a child, time had been so often spent playing games that replicated war, and Technoblade had laughed along as his friend had filled the scenes with ridiculous commands, careless laughter, and nonsensical fighting. 

It was strange that now the two stood together, replicating the start of war, Far too much had changed from what they had imagined to be true back as boys running about in backyards and small forests. There was no laughter, or voluminous commands that controlled the battlefield. The chaos that surrounded them was not even something a child could recreate.

They had distanced themselves from the rest of the group, fighting on a tucked away hillside separated from the crossfire. The fighting between the two had been silent, continuing on without break for what felt like hours. Each attack leaving enough of a wound to urge the other to retaliate, but not yet with enough force to permanently damage their foe.

It was strange to see Dream in anything other than a beaten pair of pants and his hoodie. That had been the last image Technoblade had saved for himself of his friend, and it appeared with a misleading haze in his mind. 

What royal armour was left of Dream’s attire was speckled with blood and dirt, and dented with days of heated battle. Shaggy blond hair was tugged back into a bun, but with every harsh dodge and attack Dream made, another strand threatened to fall loose. He looked grown, Technoblade realized. No longer was he the scattered teenager Technoblade had spent hours running through the forest with, he was well put together, the ideal image of what a royal guard should be.

The two had ceased their constant attacks on one another, choosing instead to stand wearily in silence. Neither man took their eyes off the other, but neither did they meet each other's gaze. It was a quiet moment of rest. It was not quite ready to give up, but they did not quite have energy left to continue.

The last time Technoblade had been with his friend like this, too tired to continue, but too determined to lose, they had both wielded wooden weapons capable of bruising and bruising alone. When war was still a game, and power was determined by silly shows of strength.

Technoblade looked down at the weapon in his friend’s hands, clasped firmly before him in a position of defense. A sleek Netherite axe. As a child, Technoblade had recalled listening to hours of Dream rambling about only hoping to _touch_ one. Dream had always been one to achieve his goals.

As warriors continued to die off around them, the clanging of mtel died slightly. That would not last long, Technoblade knew. Both sides had been steadily providing reinforcements for weeks on end, although if the royal guard did not slow soon Technoblade could only imagine there would be forced recruits arriving unprepared and undertrained.

“You won’t win this, Dream.”

Dream stood up straighter, and stared upon Technoblade with sharp, green eyes. “I never was able to win against you,” the blond mused, “was I?”

Technoblade shook his head, using the hand free of a heavy diamond blade to gesture out towards the chaos surrounding the men. “This war. You will not win.”

“I disagree. You all want the same thing, but you don’t fight together. Not as the royal guard does.” 

Technoblade blinked, and for a moment he could see the face of a much younger Dream before him. One with eyes full of mirth, and energy far beyond Technoblade’s own capacity.

_“Keep up, Techno!” Dream chirped, ever the agile ball of energy. “We’ll only win together!”_

_One hand wrapped firmly around a wooden sword and the other clasped in Dream’s hand, Technoblade followed his friend off into an imaginary battle._

“United we stand,” _Technoblade had responded gently, stumbling alongside his friend._ “Divided we fall.”

_Dream had laughed dismissing the comment idly and dragging Technoblade further into the dense expanse of trees._

“You taught me that,” Dream confirmed. “I figured out what it meant when I came here.”

All too suddenly, Technoblade was yanked into the present, and he wished just for a moment the noise would die down, that the earth would quiet back into a state of peace long enough for Technoblade to emphasize that his yelling was not so that he could be heard. That the volume behind his words was desperation, and a deep disappointment because his friend did not see the trap he had fallen victim to.

“You are not united with this army.” Technoblade stepped forward, raising his sword back into a fighting stance. “No one is ever united beneath government. They’ve only sent you out here to make a point.”

Dream attacked first, and the two danced to a familiar rhythm they had designed years ago. “Government protects from constant bloodshed. It keeps people in check.” The blonde pushed forward, Technoblade moved back. 

Netherite crashed against Diamond, then against steel armour. Effectively denting the shouldering of Technoblades armour. The momentum made his shoulder ache, and there would undoubtedly be a bruise when he went to check later.

“Government created the power that divides you all.” Technoblade ducked. Then, with a carefully calculated force, sent his heel forward into Dream’s chestplate, sending him tumbling backwards and crashing onto his elbows.

Technoblade hesitated, as he always did after knocking Dream back, and the blonde took advantage of that. “Power does not divide us.”

“Is that why you are fighting while Prince George does not? That’s not tied to power?”

The blond stood slowly, quietly, until he was once again upright. Slender hands wrapped firmly around the sturdy base of an axe gifted to only those determined enough to earn a position in the royal guard. Dream had never shown interest in the royal guard growing up, not until he had met the prince, at least.

Again, the two danced to the melody of violence, and with each crash that rattled his blade Technoblade was reminded further of the past he was throwing away.

_Technoblade huffed, aiming his sword down at Dream’s chest. The two had been sparring for hours, now with proper swords-dulled slightly-that Dream had received for his birthday. “Time to give up.”_

_“Come on now, you know I can’t do that.”_

His agility had always been something Technoblade envied, even now so the statement held true. The pinkette would have the upper hand for a moment-or rather he’d think he had it-then Dream would twist, or leap in a way that appeared almost inhuman and the battle would continue on.

“Give up, Dream,” Technoblade warned again. It was obvious the blonde was growing tired, the adrenaline powering every calculated blow Technoblade threw fading as well. “I don’t want to kill you.”

“Not while you threaten my friend.” Dream swung again, colliding with the edge of Technoblade’s arm piece and drawing a large cut across his bicep. “Not while you threaten my king.”

Technoblade hummed, and as Dream sagged forward with the momentum from his previous swing slammed the fuller of his sword against the blondes head, throwing him even further off balance and onto the ground. “I thought the king was to protect his citizens?”

Stepping forward, Technoblade pressed the edge of his sword to Dream’s exposed neck, applying just enough pressure to keep him still. Of all the opposing threats Technoblade had faced so far, Dream would be he one he lost to. “Governments are only instilled to initiate unfair power. Nobody is equal under your king's rule.”

“That-” Dream panted out, glaring up at Technoblade, “that is _not true.”_

“Oh really?” Every muscle in his body fought against the decision. Technoblade didn't want to eliminate the only good friend he had, even if they would not be friends moving forward. Even so, he was here on a mission. So was Dream. The choice had already been made

Technoblade swiped his blade forward, creating a long gash along the blond’s neck. A small gasp escaped Dream, who pressed a gloved hand onto the wound and grimaced. “Then tell me this, Dream.”

Slowly, solemnly, Technoblade knelt until he was face to face with Dream. Blood trickled in thick bursts between Dream’s fingers, trailing down his hand and dripping onto his shoulder. Staining the iron armour that had done so much over the battle filled week to protect him. Matted blonde hair clung to his forehead with a grimy mixture of blood, sweat, and dirt.

“When you die out here, who will avenge you?” Dream scowled quietly, sending a louder message with his gaze than Technoblade believed the blonde could ever manage verbally. “Not your king; he knew the risks of sending you out here to fight. You dying does not impact his power, your death does not hold the same worth as someone of the royal family.” Technoblade pushed on Dream’s Chest with his palm, forcing the wounded man to lay on his back. His last sight would not be of the childhood friend who murdered him.

“Not your comrades. They may mourn,” with careful hands, Technoblade took the Netherite axe and placed it gently beside Dream. “But they won’t change their path because they’ve lost you. They do not have the power to demand justice for all the soldiers lost to me.”

Stretching his reach behind the gasping blond, Technoblade strained to reach the beaten white mask that had been abandoned earlier. Slowly, Technoblade pulled the object into his lap, inspecting it quietly. 

_Dream held loosely onto the thick, clay mask. Inspecting the careful craftsmanship of the gift before him. The face of it was sanded and polished, and still reeked heavily of the acidic scent of clear coat. Two eyes had been drilled through the material, and a wobbly black line acted as a mouth to complete the simple face._

_“Do you like it?” Technoblade asked, hesitantly. His friend had not spoken since he had removed the item from the box, and held it so loosely the wind could have blown it from his hands. It was nothing compared to sparring swords, but Technoblade knew his friend was not fond of people commenting on his appearance. He could hide with this._

_“I’ll never go without it,” Dream smiled, slipping it on to cover his face. “I’ll be damned if I don’t die with it on.”_

_Technoblade rolled his eyes, snickering at the badly painted smile that stared back. “Like you’ll ever die.”_

“Your loyalty is impressive, Dream,” Technoblade rested a beaten hand on the blond’s arm, slipping the white mask gently over his friend’s face.. “Stupid, but impressive.”

A new disappointment seeped into place of the disappointment he felt over his friend’ naivety. He found himself disappointed that a government-even one as corrupt as this-would overlook loyalty and determination of such that the blond yielded in favor of gaining another pawn for their game. 

Nobody would avenge Dream within that kingdom, Technoblade knew. They may mourn, but the blond with loyalty to those he loved beaten only by an oath he took as an eager teenager deserved much more than whatever tears that kingdom had to shed for him.

Technoblade sighed, picking up his sword and rejoining an area of more populated battle. Leaving his friend to rest upon that lonely hill.

_“One of these days,” Technoblade droned, extending a hand to his friend. “I’m going to have to kill you.”_

_The pair fought with real swords now, ones the boys had saved up for together and spent days admiring and altering to perfection before use._

_It was late afternoon, and the last time Technoblade would get to spar with Dream, although he didn’t know that at the time. Several times, Technoblade had knocked Dream to the ground, insisting he give up in favor of his life, and every time Dream had managed to get back up and continued fighting._

_This time around had been different. Technoblade had somehow disarmed his blond friend. Dream could no longer leap back into action without a method of defense._

_“Yeah right,” Dream grabbed onto the extended hand, yanking himself to his feet with a grin. A fresh cut-thanks to Technoblades final blow-dripped a small amount of blood down his cheek. “You love me too much.”_

_Technoblade rolled his eyes, offering Dream’s sword back. “I regret to inform you, but I love winning more. And I must fulfill my quota of blood for the blood god.”_

_“You’re so weird,” Dream huffed, striding off back towards the small village they called home. “I doubt you love winning more than me.”_

_‘I don’t’, Technoblade had almost blurted out, swallowing heavily as Dream threw an arm over his shoulder as they walked._

‘I loved nothing more than you’, the pinkette thought, walking away from the battlefield with what was left of his army. ‘I never will’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha. Wrote this on and off in like an hour. Feedback is always appreciated. I'm very tired. Goodnight.


End file.
